


Operation A MAN FOR AIZRAPHEL

by Himitsu_no



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himitsu_no/pseuds/Himitsu_no
Summary: He works at this office, this poor guy. Months making hot chocolate for everyone, out of the kindness of his heart, and nobody knew who he was until someone had the bright idea of setting him up with a girl...boyfriend.Poor soft, ill-dressed and too-nice-for-this-world cocoa-making Aziraphale, who so desperately needed a sweetheart.As if anybody would ever want him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 154





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGhostInTheMachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGhostInTheMachine/gifts).



> Gift to Saskia He, Happy Birthday! ^^  
> Hope you enjoy it LOTS <3

_guys 9:41_   
_guys 9:41_   
_guys 9:41_   
_guys 9:41_

**Gabriel  
** GOD YOUR ANNOYING STOP IT 9:42

**Michael  
** *YOU’RE 9:42

**Newt  
** It’s working!! You’re a wizard, Harry. Thank you! 9:44

_yay!!! Use it wisely 9:45_   
_great powers, great responsibility and all 9:45_

**Gabriel  
** who is Harry 9:47

 **Newt  
** It’s Harry Potter reference. Anathema adapted my typewriter so I can use the computer without blowing up the company 9:47

 **Michael  
** How is that even possible 9:48  
No wait what group is this I don’t want to be in a group with you losers 9:49

_guys 9:51_   
_it's an emergency situation 9:51_   
_Azraphela 9:51_   
_Aizraphal 9:51_   
_dammit 9:51_   
_AZIRAPHALE 9:52_

**Michael  
** Who? 9:54

_the trainee 9:57_

**Gabriel  
** who 10:00

 **Deidre  
** The guy that’s been making us cocoa all winter during breaks 10:01

 **Gabriel  
** ohhhhh cocoa guy! Yes!! 10:01  
  


 **Michael  
** Ah, Grandpa Fail. 10:02

 **Arthur  
** I like his sweaters! Got a few myself in Swindon last year 10:04

 **Deidre  
** They’re lovely ^^ 10:04  
What about him? 10:05

_we gotta find him a girlfriend 10:07_

**Michael  
** Ok I’m leaving 10:07

_no wait 10:08_   
_u know a lot of people from the London branch, don’t you? 10:08_

**Michael  
** That would want to date that guy? Zero 10:11

 **Newt  
** Ouch 10:11

_now thats just mena 10:12_   
_*mean 10:12_

**Deidre  
** He’s gay, Anathema. 10:16

_oh 10:17_   
_are you sure??? 10:17_

**Deidre  
** Gayer than a tree of monkeys on nitrous oxide. 10:18

 **Michael  
** what does that even mean 10:22

 **Arthur  
** I wonder the same 10:23

_yeah ok that’s fine 10:28_   
_thing is 10:29_   
_the poor guy’s been wailing about this boyfriend for weeks 10:29_   
_i’m not even sure he exists 10:29_   
_in hindsight, I should have realized he’s gay weeks ago 10:32_   
_damn I feel so dumb rn 10:33_

**_Newt_  
** I think you’re pretty clever 10:33

 **Gabriel  
** love is in the aaaaaiiiiirrrrr 10:35  
i’m allergic 10:35

 **Newt  
** I mean  
She connected a typewriter to a computer wirelessly 10:37

 **Deidre  
** What 10:40  
How 10:40

  
_a little bit of magic 10:46_   
_wizardry ;D 10:46_   
_so back to the reason 10:47_   
_i created this group 10:47_   
_operation A MAN FOR AIZRAPHEL 10:47_   
_AZRAPHELA 10:47_   
_GOD WHAT WERE HIS PARENTS THINKING!!!! 10:47_

  
**Arthur  
** A Z I R A P H A L E 10:48  
I work in HR. I’ve had to type his name enough to memorise. 10:59

 **Michael  
** I may have heard him on the phone with this guy. Anthony or something? 11:03  
But then again, he could have been pretending all along.  
Probably was.  
I mean, look at him. He’s pitiful. And way too nice. People don’t like overly nice people. Or people that dress like THAT. 11:05

 **Newt  
** I do. 11:05

 **Gabriel  
** hehe  
problem solved 11:06

 **Newt  
** Not… like that  
I just think it’s nice he bothers with others  
Unlike most people here 11:07

_i feel personally attacked 11:07_

**Newt  
** Not you!! 11:08

 **Uriel  
** Do you people ever work? 11:12

_how bout this 14:03_   
_we create a tinder profile for him 14:03_   
_get pictures from his facebook 14:03_   
_does anybody have his facebook 14:04_

**Newt  
** I never had facebook 14:05  
Maybe now I’ll be able to do that 14:05  
facebook, Twitter, Instagram   
Now is my time to shine 14:06

 **Gabriel  
** you sure your straight 14:09

 **Michael  
** I don’t even know his last name  
Well, even if I did… 14:11

 **Arthur  
** He doesn’t have a last name. Just that crazy one. 14:13  
Oh you know who could be a good match? 14:16

_deidre? Hahahahahahahah 14:16_

**Arthur  
** NO!! >:( 14:16  
Ms Tracy, from Shipping 14:17

_she’s married 14:20_   
_to that guy screaming about the end of the world and slandering witches 14:21_

**Newt  
** That loonie? Really? 14:21

_yup got married a couple of months ago I attended. 14:22_

**Newt  
** Oh. Not sure I was invited. 14:23

 **Michael  
** We all were by email but no one cared. 14:27

 **Deidre  
** :( I was sick 14:28

_you guys suck 14:29_

**Newt  
** I didn’t even know :( 14:31

_not you :) 14:32_

_what about that Neil guy 15:03_   
_that comes in once a month 15:03_   
_does he work here or something??? 15:03_   
_he seems very nice 15:03_

**Arthur  
** Oh, he is quite nice. He is CEO in London, and married to the owner. 15:04

_how about that Michael guy? 15:07_

**Michael  
** ME!?!??!?!?!? 15:12

_no no 15:19_   
_crazy-curls Michael, from Marketing 15:20_

**Newt  
** that guy is bonkers 15:23

_yes but 15:24_   
_he’s very very kind 15:24_

**Deidre  
** he could be a psychopath 15:29

 **Michael  
** or a pervert 15:29

 **Gabriel  
** no that would be Sandy from HR 15:30

 **Arthur  
** DON’T REMIND ME 15:30

 **Gabriel  
** hahahahahahahahhahahaha 15:31

_whats going on 15:32_

**Newt  
** Care to share with the class? 15:34

 **Arthur  
** Can’t. We signed something, can’t talk about it. 15:36

 **Uriel**  
Quite right. 15:44

“Who added the boss???” Newt whispered.

“It was an honest mistake!! I added in the bulk and now I don’t know how to delete her. Him. Them.”

Newt sighed and meant to admonish her for it, but for a guy who had started in the digital world just a few hours prior, he didn’t feel he had the right to. He didn’t even know how to start a group on the app, to be honest, but he figured if his grandma could do it so easily and by chance, then so could he.

“Is everything all right,” asked a shy voice behind them. It was Aziraphale, nervously twisting the hem of his teal argyle sweater. “I get the feeling something is terribly off because wherever I go or whatever I do people stare at me. Did I do something wrong, dear? Is it something I can improve?”

Anathema nearly melted. How could a person be that sweet and endearing? And she was the one setting him up. She felt guilt as hell right about now, but then reminded herself it was for a good cause. He’d be happier and thankful, surely.

“You’re doing fine, Azrafail. Fell. Azra… Can I call you Azi?”

He beamed. “Of course, my dear. That’d be lovely.”

Anathema smiled. “Is everything okay, though? You seemed quite upset earlier.”

His face fell. “It’s… my… _boyfriend_ ,” he said awkwardly.

Newt and Anathema looked at each other.

“I miss him terribly these days, everything reminds me of him. And I’m not sure when we’ll be able to meet as he’s been busy on tour.”

“Oh? Is he in a band or something?”

“Yes, he’s bassist in an Indian rock band.”

“You mean _indie_?”

“Yes!! I keep mistaking that, it’s not my type of music, but this is so embarrassing…”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry too much.”

“I saw him a few days ago but it may be months until we meet again. So… I just miss him. That’s all.”

They exchanged looks again.

_it does seem like he exists 15:56_

**Newt  
** That was pretty convincing, yeah. 15:57  
Although  
The way he said ‘boyfriend’, that was weird. 16:00

_maybe it’s a recent relationship and he’s not used to it? 16:03_

**Newt  
** Could be! 16:04

 **Gabriel  
** oh I forgot to mention 16:16  
i went out for coffee yesterday and I MAY have seen cocoaboy with someone 16:20  
but it was a woman  
i think  
very attractive 16:21  
long hair 16:22  
SUPER HOT 16:22  
  
 **Michael  
** Could have been anyone, doesn’t mean anything. 16:23

 **Gabriel  
** well   
i mean  
you don’t hug people quite like that 16:25  
well you don’t hug anyone, I’m sure 16:27

 **Michael  
** Oh sod off 16:27

 **Deidre  
** Maybe he’s just bi? /shrug 16:28

_he draws boys kissing and fucking on his notepads, D 16:32_

**Gabriel  
** language!!!! 16:32  
meaning I don’t need to know that! 16:32

_and he’s good too!! almost commissioned him 16:34_   
_for some harry potter lewd fanart hahahahahaha 16:34_

**Uriel  
** What was that, Anathema? 16:35

_just a joke sir 16:35_

**Deidre**

Oh my God, just delete them!! 16:36

_idk how!! 16:36_

Just say you deleted the group. 16:36

_yes but what if she asks. They. If they ask. 16:36_

You say he’s already got a boyfriend and  
it’s solved so there was no need to keep it. 16:37

_k 16:37_

It was almost six, and all eyes took turns into staring holes at the clock. All except for Aziraphale, for stood from his desk one last time before the workday was over to make himself some tea. It helped calm his nerves and distract his mind.

In his absence the door swung open and a leather-clad figure walked in, hips swinging all over the place. His hair was long and braided from the top of this head to the middle of his back. Dark sunglasses and snake tattoo, sex on legs. He looked around the office and all eyes looked at him, from the tip of his long copper hair to the heel of his boots.

Gabriel gaped. _Definitely not a woman. Should be a woman. HAS TO BE A WOMAN I WANNA TAP THAT--_

It took Michael a moment to understand, but upon seeing Gabriel’s reaction, her eyebrows raised almost to their hairline. _WHOA. THIS DUDE IS -HOT-._

It didn’t take long for Anathema and Newt to identify him. Both blushed deep, deep crimson. Their mouths were suddenly very dry.

Deidre, Arthur and Uriel walked in at once talking about a report from the IT department and stopped dead on their tracks. Deidre and Arthur looked at each other, and Uriel seemed unfazed.

“May I help you?”

“Does Aziraphale work here?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t seem to be at his desk. Would you mind waiting?”

“Not at all. Thanks.”

Anthony Crowley sat on the edge of his chair and laid back, rocking sideways impatiently.

Deidre cleared her throat and smiled at him. “Are you Aziraphale’s friend?”

He looked her from head to toe. “You could say that," he smirked. "Who are you?”

“I am Deidre Young.”

“Who’s Ana Thelma?”

“Anathema,” ms Device corrected him standing from her desk and walking over to him.

Crowley smiled as sincere as he could muster and offered her a hand. “Thank you for being nice to him. He’s been having trouble making friends since he moved. He’s too bloody nice for this world, I gotta teach him to be mean bitch.”

She scoffed. He could try, certainly.

There was a loud gasp and they all turned towards the kitchen. There stood Aziraphale, cup still in his shaky hands, a hand over his heart.

“You’re here,” he grinned.

“Of course I’m here, I wouldn’t leave you to spend your birthday with these morons.”

Everybody gasped – _his birthday_.

“We suck!!” whispered Anathema to Newt. He agreed.

Aziraphale put away his cup and rushed to hug his beloved, leaving them all staring. The way the bassist smiled bright like a sun made every person in the room envy him.

Poor soft, ill-dressed and too-nice-for-this-world cocoa-making Aziraphale, who so desperately needed a sweetheart.

They’d all be thinking of _that_ when they ran into him passionately making out with Crowley on the emergency stairs, and when they walked to their cars and saw him shirtless on the backseat of the Bentley. Or when he showed up the next day, all smiles, covered in marks and hickeys and walking suspiciously slower than usual. Or so deliciously disheveled after lunch, khaki pants crumpled in ways it could not be mistaken for anything else.

In the days that followed they couldn’t stop thinking of _him_ , in those tight pants and perfect butt, that cool smirk and sinful hips. _Oh_ , they must feel _so_ good to grind against. Oh, to be held boneless in those hands, on the mercy of those lips, his slender fingers pulling and scraping and pushing into—

Well, they couldn’t stop thinking of him.

And of poor Aziraphale, as if anybody would ever want him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purely self-indulgent.  
> I mean, I could not hint at musician Crowley and not write that absolute sex-on-legs of a guy, ya know?
> 
> Hope y'all like it!

In the days that followed, Aziraphale changed. Nobody could tell exactly what did it, but everybody knew _exactly_ what happened to him: Crowley did.

After the sexy hot mess of a boyfriend of his left, he was suddenly the talk of the office, popular as anything. Everybody knew him, and those who didn’t wanted to.

The sudden exposure put him off very quickly. He was a sweet man but not a very patient one, and it was hard to take the constant scrutiny and judgement he was under in stride.

( _“Oh my, what would Crowley think of that? Tsk”, “Does he know Az is like that in real life?” and “Omg Crowley could do so much better with me, I mean, look at those thighs! Disgusting.”_ )

Ok, 1) Since when was he _Az_? Who gave them the right to use Crowley’s pet name for him?

And 2), he laughed until he was bent over and breathless when he overheard the thigh comment, absently touching the bruises on them through the fabric of his trousers. It would take a few days for the nail marks to heal, and though his boyfriend had apologized profusely afterwards, he didn’t mind them at all. It almost made him want to parade around in shorts to show them off – maybe he’d go to the beach on the weekend so he could post pictures of them on his Facebook and _that_ would show them! _Hah_!!

There wasn’t so much he could do, really. It left him not much of a choice: he could either be himself or a bit of a bastard. Which, if we are to be honest, are exactly the same thing. So he became a Bastard.

But the kind you didn’t recognize until you’ve done exactly what he expected of you, that _smile_ on his lips. It would begin with a pout and a sweet smile and you’d be slowly led into his whims and you’d even, “Aw, he’s so nice, I couldn’t not do it”. It never failed to amuse Anathema.

So in the mornings, when he arrived, there was already a cup of coffee, a cup of tea(not his favorite, but give them time to learn) and cocoa with two marshmallows on top. He would smirk and give the coffee to Anathema, and she would smirk too. He reserved for her his sincerity and nicest bits of himself.

Before lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays someone would drop an apple on his desk while he was away. He would bet his money on Gabriel, who was into a new fitness trend and sometimes would only eat a baked potato for lunch. The taller of them tried not to broach the subject of Crowley but somehow always did, and Freud would laugh at his surreptitiously gifting Aziraphale apples, of all things.

He seldom managed to sit by himself for lunch nowadays, and this was perhaps the most annoying part. He liked to chill and eat slowly, exchanging texts and memes and audios with his beloved, but now even the walls seemed to have eyes and ears on him and it was rather infuriating. He devised a plan to get them to back off, but it could very well have the opposite effect, so he chose to wait another two weeks and hoped it would be enough time for the interest to wilt completely and he could go back to being a nobody.

Just his luck that in two weeks Crowley’s band would play in town, so, _nope_ ; he’d just have to perfect his master plan.

The concert was the talk of the office and most employees anticipated it in varied degrees of hysteria. Aziraphale, it seemed, was the least impressed, and he was pretty damn excited about it. The swooning was _unbearable_.

Anathema laughed around a mouthful of sandwich. “Just give them time. It’s a small town, people don’t have much to look forward to here. Besides, you two made quite and impression on everyone, so. Also, they mean no harm. Just let them enjoy it, and try to enjoy it yourself.”

“Aside from the aggravating comment here and there, you mean”, he grumbled.

“But you shut them up nicely with those pictures, so…” she shrugged.

There was a moment in which she frowned, and paused.

“Wait. This isn’t about the attention. You don’t mind the attention.”

“What?”

“Oh. _Oh_!!! You’re _jealous_ , aren’t you???”

“What???”

“Oh God, Aziraphale!! You’re jealous!!”

“That’s- that’s- _no,_ of course I’m not- no!!”

“Aww, you don’t want to share your Anthony, is it? Aww, look at you!”

“Shut it! They’ll hear you! And believe this nonsense!”

“Awww, Azi!! Aww.”

“Stop it.”

She smiled and didn’t press the matter further.

Days later she approached him again during lunch time when he seemed particularly upset. “Would you mind?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked at his phone again. He nodded towards the seat next to him.

“Something bothering you?”

“Not really, I’m just… bummed we were interrupted by his battery dying in the middle of something important.”

“Oooh, _sexting_.”

“Oh, sod off.”

Anathema grinned. “How did you guys meet, by the way?”

“Kindergarten,” he smiled.

“Aw, that’s so sweet!”

“I suppose it is. We became friends when we were around… five?, I think. And have been inseparable ever since,” and his smile faltered. “Well, that is, until he moved to America and lived there for four years. The worst period of my life, coincidentally or not. And- and now, of course.”

She didn’t press, but his mouth kept working while his eyes focused somewhere in the past.

“I grew up with very strict Catholic parents. I didn’t mind going to church and the endless praying, but… it was very hard to cope when I discovered I liked boys. I dreaded anybody finding out, specially Crowley. I was sure he would stop talking to me if he knew. I thought if he knew… he might think all those nights we spent awake in my bed laughing meant something else, when they really didn’t…”

There was a long pause while he swallowed a lump in his throat. He looked around to make sure only Anathema heard him.

“He was my best friend and I just loved him so much... I hid all my notebooks in fear my parents would find my drawings and love letters I never sent. When he- when… he went away, I fell apart. And I panicked, I didn’t… I didn’t think I could…”

He licked his lips and warmth filled his blue, distant eyes. “It was just my luck he mailed me a letter not even a week afterwards. He… kept me company in his absence, and I realized I had fallen so hard for him. Never stopped. When he returned we were in high school, but he couldn’t get into my school because of his grades. He started skipping classes to see me and I started wondering if- if it was mutual…”

“One day my parents saw a drawing I had posted anonymously online and confronted me. I don’t know how they- now that I think of it, maybe they were just trying to intimidate me or... I… I came out to them and they disowned me that same night. Crowley… he took me in.”

“Wow. _Wow_. That’s- a lot. Wow.”

“We started dating after I graduated from college and… here we are.”

“But didn’t you _just_ graduate?”

“Yes. A little over two months ago.”

“Oh. How sad you had to split so soon! After waiting for so long!”

“Yes,” he sighed. “I miss him more than... A _lot_ , I mean. But it’s only temporary, I’m going back to London in a few months. I… I waited my entire life. I can wait… a bit more.”

“Still. Sucks, I mean.”

“Mhm.”

“But!! His concert is on Friday!!”

“Yes.”

“Excited??”

“Quite.”

“I thought you’d be a bit more… over the moon. Or something.”

“I- I _am_ excited. Crowley on stage is… something else. He is… well, you’ll see for yourself. His bandmates are fun too, if a bit odd. But it’s just… _everyone_ from the office is going and they’re not even my friends. It makes me… queasy.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I mean, they all got the hots for your guy, but… it’s all… benevolent.”

“ _Benevolent_?” he scoffed. “Hardly.”

“For the most part,” she tried.

“It’s fine, it’s just… I… I’m not used to this sort of attention. And… it’s all very… recent. Crowley and I, I mean.”

“From your story, you seem to have been together for a lot longer than a couple of months. I’d say years, even.”

“Hm. Perhaps so.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just focus your energy on him and you’ll be fine.”

“You’re quite a nice friend.”

God knows he needed one, _this_ close to losing it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, being the klutz that I am, I made a Spotify playlist for this, and it's on the first line of the fic because I haven't figured out how to post it here, sorry.  
> You should listen to at least the first song to get you in the mood of sexiness I felt when I head the song for the first time and HAD to write this chapter. It's called "The Phoenix" by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it :)

[The Infernals setlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/31sak3cmtv5yqpj57w65rzarslpi/playlist/3xVqcpn6wAOaOaqbHQNMBk?si=Yb_8_rcsTZSfiwfs-igNLA)

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

Friday finally arrived.

Everyone left as soon as the clock met the five o’clock mark. Aziraphale hurried home to shower and was already out the door before six. He figured he should at least get a spot closer to the stage, and was surprised most of his workmates were already there when he arrived.

Deidre and Arthur were chatting idly with Michael and that Sandy guy from HR. The guy was quite an odd one; he had a creepy little smile that made something die inside you, and Aziraphale could barely look in his general direction before cringing and looking away. Anathema shuddered, too.

“That guy. _Ugh_.”

“I’d rather not jump to conclusions.”

“Well it’s not jumping to conclusion if he’s got ‘pervert’ written all over his face,” she reasoned.

Aziraphale scoffed and turned to the stage.

“You alright, Azi?”

“I’m… nervous.”

“Oh, me too! Can’t wait to see this band. My friends in London said they’re wicked!”

“Well, I suppose that’s what you’d expect from a band called ‘The Infernals’.”

An eyeroll - “You know what I meant.”

“Of course, dear. Apologies. I’m just very, very anxious. I hope everything goes well.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“He said… Crowley said I’d be- I’d be in for a big surprise tonight. I hope that’s… I hope that’s a good thing, is all,” he said as he rubbed his palms against his coat. They were getting sweaty and jittery and, _really_ , Crowley should know better than to toss the word ‘surprise’ around like it’s a good thing.

She was about to reply when the lights went out and the whole arena went completely dark. The sudden wave of screaming and excited applause was deafening, and Aziraphale put his hands on his ears to muffle the noise. The loudest, though, was inside him – that heart of his, drumming off-beat and threatening to escape his lips.

Any moment now Ligur’s guitar would kick off the night with _Highway to Hell_ and even if he wasn’t particularly fond of the song, Aziraphale greatly appreciated the safety of knowing what would happen next. Any moment now he’d hear Beez’s voice filling the air and maybe the big surprise his darling had mentioned was a change in the setlist, perhaps include a song or two he had suggested at some point, and-

And then Anthony _Crowley_ yelled-

**_Put on your war paint!_ ** *****

and the instruments joined him and everybody yelled their lungs out and the spotlights flashed and the drumming started, and it was powerful, and hard and fast like his heart, and all around and against him in the crowded space people jumped to it and the lights-

_You-are-a-brick tied to-me that’s draggingmedown_

-the lights were so bright, and his shoulder-length copper hair shone so bright under it

_Strike-a-match and I’ll burn-you-to-the-ground_

and he was so, so _beautiful_ and- and his bass wasn’t slung on his shoulder, and he wasn’t playing-

_We are the jack-o-lanterns in July, setting fire to the sky_

Tracy with her red lips and obnoxiously pink wig had his white bass, and he-

He was _singing_ , of all things, and his voice…

 _God_ , his _voice…_ Seeing him like that-

_He – here comes this rising tide_

It did _things_ to him, it melted his insides in a _certain_ _way_ , and his throat was suddenly so dry

_So come on!_

and he was so thirsty all of a sudden.

_Parched._

He wanted-

God, he wanted him more than ever.

He didn’t register when his hands covered his mouth, only the blunt force of desire and pride and _so much love_ swirling inside him like undercurrents in roaring sea. It felt like drowning in air, and he gasped, and he grasped Anathema’s arm as his knees failed him and it felt-

it felt like Crowley had dropped a bucket of scalding water down his back, awakening his senses and burning his skin with so much- so many- so many _things_ he could barely name or tell them apart and it felt-

It felt _fantastic._

It was fucking _fantastic_ , and he saw the lopsided grin on him, those delicious lips he needed to sink his teeth into; how Crowley savored his reactions, the look of complete groundlessness of him.

He looked at his colleagues and they were all just as shocked, looking amongst themselves and then Aziraphale, and then at Crowley. As if they said, “is that really _him_?”, “Is Aziraphale dating that _sex god_?”, and also “Jesus fucking _Christ_ , that’s _Crowley_!”

_You know time crawls on when you’re waiting for the song to start_

_So dance alone to the beat of your heart_

His shoulders sagged and his hands moved on their own, to cover his heart, to try and keep it in there even as it swelled with unprecedented affection. They craved to touch him and tangle in the endless fields of copper sunshine and apple shampoo, and he wasn’t particularly keen on waiting the two hours until they would be together.

This time he found he wouldn’t mind the wait as much, enraptured as he was in the voice bursting the speakers and flooding him. He closed his eyes and let himself be float away – it was magnificent.

_Then_ , then he heard it:

**_I wanna see your animal side_ **

The second song began, and he felt it in his bones even with his eyes closed – the _teasing_. Was it a choice made by all the members or was Crowley speaking to him? He might have a word with “Lord” Hastur(Jesus Christ, what a stupid stage name) or text Beez later about it, but for now…

Now he grinned.

Oh, _damn fucking right_ he would see his ‘animal side’.

As they played their second Fall Out Boy cover, Aziraphale smiled at his coworkers’ reactions – all of them sported some version of wide eyes, slack mouth, hands on their faces. They took turns looking at him and shaking their heads disbelievingly. Only Uriel – _what the hell was Uriel doing there?_ – seemed merely impressed and strangely pleased. He almost thought that was a look of arousal, of all things, but letting his mind wonder _in that general direction_ was a one-way road and he sure as hell didn’t wanna go there.

Gabriel and Sandy the Pervert had the same frown and blew “oh”s in a way he really wished he hadn’t seen.

Yup, definitely arousal, and now he’d have to wash his eyes with bleach.

Newt looked like he’d seen a ghost, and couldn’t tear his eyes off it.

Deidre and Arthur rocked to the songs together, entirely over the fact their coworker was sleeping with that god onstage.

“I didn’t know he could sing. Not like _that_ ,” said Anathema, fascinated.

“You and I both! Years and years and it's like I don't even know him!”

“That was the surprise?”

“I suppose!”

“Wow.”

“Wow,” he parroted and breathed out slowly. “Wow indeed.”

His throat was still dry.

The concert went on for another two hours of well-rehearsed covers and originals by Madame Tracy, Beez and Lord Hastur, at times switching their roles – and Aziraphale’s workmates finally saw Crowley playing the bass for _Under Pressure_ and sexy as all hell behind the drums for _Seven Nation Army_ while Hastur sang, before going back to vocals for the last four songs.

There was a ballad or two squeezed in there, and for those he took off his sunglasses. He was wearing those dreadful lenses, the ones that resembled a cat’s or a snake’s eyes and had Aziraphale reticent at the store.

Here, though… Here, he was someone else – he looked so vulnerable and cool at the same time, and nobody knew him as well as ‘ _Az_ ’ did, and nobody loved every cell of him as he did, and Aziraphale knew those eyes were now a part of him just as his honey-colored irises were.

He let his body swing to the ballads and shake to _R U Mine?_ , and _How Far We’ve Come_ , and if he had seen the setlist prior to the gig, he would have thought they’d take on a more romantic vein tonight: some of the titles were vaguely misleading, he’d have thought, and Crowley would smile big at his expense.

At the end of _Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time_ Anthony sighed loudly into the microphone and introduced his band members. Beez stood next to him, making obscene gestures at the audience. The public roared and Crowley laughed and threw his arm around her shoulders, pressing her close and messing with her stupid hat, the one that resembled the face of a fly and she had absolutely no shame of wearing it in public. It was almost endearing when she stuffed her hand on his face and pushed him off her as he laughed louder, and his laughter was so musical it had everyone laughing along.

Aziraphale smiled broad and committed the experience to heart.

Until, of course, a small but very loud group of people started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Madame Tracy made a face and yelled into her mic, “She’s his sister, you sickos!”

_Then_ , something hit the stage with barely any noise, just a flash of something pink flying past his head. And then something black as well, a few feet away, too close to Ligur for comfort.

When he saw what they were, he bent over laughing.

Lord Hastur picked it up by a clasp and muttered intelligently into the microphone:

“Ummm.”

Crowley added:

“Not my size, but thank you, love. Ligur, maybe?”

Ligur looked desperate, shaking his head.

Beez used her drumsticks as chopsticks to retrieve the other item.

“Too bad. Angel?”

Crowley grinned expectantly into the audience and everybody tried to follow his gaze but couldn’t find who exactly Angel was (and those two more rabid fangirls had to put away their pocket knives, such a disappointment for them). Anathema laughed loud enough that some people thought it was _her_ , and if they came at her she’d use her ‘ _mortal af Krav Maga skills_ ’ without so much as a second thought.

Crowley waved his hands. “It’s a very nice brassiere, though I’m afraid it won’t fit any of us. The, uh, the… is that a thong, Beez?”

She nodded in disgust. Then broke into laughter, and it was a terrifying kind.

“Yah, a definite _no_. Thank you, though. You’re very… _kind._ Whoever you are, and I hope not to find out. We’ll, uh. Donate it to charity. Or sumthin’.”

They couldn’t keep a straight face as they bowed and thanked the audience. Crowley went on a minor rant telling them how much it meant to them and specially to him to be playing in their city, with a shout-out to Heaven Lee and his Angel (which prompted roaring laughter – why the heavens would he thank a publisher mainly focused on erotic literature if not jokingly? And just _who. the fuck._ was Angel???, after all??).

He announced _Hurricane_ was their last performance of the night, and people moaned and groaned, but it was a perfect choice. It always sounded like a party when they played it – they got even more playful on stage, and Madame Tracy always got very theatrical and smiled unreservedly, shaking her hips, singing along…

“It was all rather lovely”, Aziraphale would tell them later, at some point, after he’d ravished Crowley enough to be able to go back to his prim self and speak without running his mouth. (It would take a few days, to be sure.)

The band got off stage and went to their dressing rooms. Aziraphale stayed put as people moved slowly towards the exits, and in half an hour the audience had thinned and scattered considerably, with a few people staying behind for handshakes and autographs.

Michael and Uriel had left, it seemed, as well as Deidre and Arthur. The rest of his workmates remained.

“Whoa! Now that they’re all gone do I realize how packed this place was”, exclaimed Newt, sweaty as anything.

“I never even knew there were this many people in this city,” replied Anathema.

“This is taking forever, when are they coming out?”, groaned Gabriel.

Sandy the Pervert smiled creepily, and spoke like a true predator. “Patience is a virtue!”

People in a twenty-feet radius shuddered as if they’d felt the cold lick of his words on the nape of their necks.

Then the band finally came out, and the ones who stayed behind celebrated and rushed to meet and greet them.

Crowley’s hair was wet from a quick shower, and it dripped on a long grey scarf around his neck. His sunglasses were pushed to the top of his head and he looked pretty like a spell.

Those snake eyes found Aziraphale’s blue and they shared a moment there, as if time had stopped for them.

He was still looking at his lover when Gabriel stopped in front of him star-struck. He gaped and stared and moved his mouth to try to speak but it refused to work. Then he lurched forward to kiss the vocalist

and was hit hard on the forehead by Beez, who spat at him. “Back the fuck off, mate! The fuck!!?”

Madame Tracy intervened, and her wig didn’t look as bright as it did on stage, and her make-up was slightly smudged, but she was lovely as ever. She always was. “Oh, that is not allowed, my dear, but perhaps you’d like an autograph?”

Gabriel, however, was anything _but_ lovely, and he made a weird face at her and trotted away. She was left confused. “Okay. Sure.”

Aziraphale waved a hand and moved in to hug her, being instantly rewarded with a tight hug. “He’s like that, don’t mind him. You were lovely as always! Kicked butts!”

“Oh, my dearest!! I’ve missed you so much!! Haven’t seen you in a long time!!”

“I’m so happy to see you too, Tracy! You were wonderful tonight!”

“Aw! Nothing compared to your Tonton here!”

“Don’t _call_ me that!!!”, Crowley spat as he hugged and thanked Anathema for her presence and support, to which she replied with a shy smile and a stuttered ‘ _my pleasure!_ ’.

Newt moved in to get a hug too, but Crowley only clapped his shoulder and shook his hand. “Thank you, too. Hope you had a good time.”

He did, he just couldn’t speak. Also, he was bisexual, he found.

And then Crowley finally hugged Aziraphale as tight as he could, and tilted him from side to side like a matrioska attempting to walk. It broke his bones and put all of his scattered pieces back together.

“ _God_ , I missed you. _Shit_. It was so _hard_ seeing you from stage and not being able to jump on you,” he sighed. “So glad you’re here. So glad _I’m_ here. Hope you had a grand time, Angel, and I’m sure you enjoyed your surprise, didn’t you?”

He blushed and the vocalist grinned. “I could feel it up there, ya know.”

“S-Stop talking, people can hear you.”

“They’ll hear me, alright,” and he bit his lips.

“I’ll w-wait- I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Yup. Be there in a few. Hi, how are you? Hope you enjoyed the show.”

Aziraphale kept Anathema company while he waited for Crowley and she waited for her bus.

“I don’t remember it, but my mother used to tell me how I got home one day and was shocked to discover I had a twin brother,” he smiled adorably. “I told her a boy in my class looked exactly like me. When she asked the teacher, they laughed until they cried. Another kid was wearing the exact same clothes that day and we were convinced we were twins, even if we couldn’t be more different physically!”

Anathema laughed and her eyes crinkled. “Was that him?”

“Yes”, he smiled, and his lips shook just the slightest.

There was a touch of nervousness lurking there somewhere, and she didn’t miss it.

“What’s wrong?”

He tried to deny it, shake his head, but-

He shrugged. “He’s all I’ve ever known. And loved. All my life. Concerts like this… they fill me with so much pride and love. And yet, they… they _terrify_ me. I’m shaking and I don’t even know-”

“No one could take him away from you, Azi. He’s crazy about you. I barely know him and I can see it in those weird-ass eyes of his. I mean- I don’t think I’ve seen a guy look at _me_ like that, or anyone else for that matter. That’s… it’s you, Azi. And it’s him. Your first and last love.”

He smiled sadly.

“There will come a day…”

They heard his voice, delightfully hoarse, and turned to the gorgeous man holding his jacket over his shoulder, swaggering towards them.

“There will come a day when Aziraphale Crowley will open his eyes in a fancy hotel in the Alps and look at his disheveled, utterly trashed out mess of a husband,” and their hearts skipped one, two, three beats, “and plan how to spend that miserably cold yet beautiful day together, completely untroubled…”

“Oh, bless. Aziraphale Crowley, _really_?”

“Well, I think you’ve earned it, don’t you think so, Ana Thelma?”

“Anathema.”

“My bad. Also, think you deserve a last name, don’t cha? Mine, at that? Everybody’s got at least one.” He mocked up a sad smile. “Except poor Aziraphale, poor bastard him.”

Aziraphale laughed. “That’s an odd request.”

“Oh, it’s no request. I’ll do it properly, don’t worry. Get down on my knee and all that. But it’s- it’s a certainty, I guess. I’ll make a husband outta you one of these days.”

“Is that so? And when did I agree to it?” his tone was light and he smiled easily, prodding the other on. His heart kept beating erratically, but his body was used to it by now.

“Every time you sent me a letter telling me about things _I_ liked, all in different colors. Every lesson you skipped in high school even though your dad gave you a hard time for it. Every… every white rose you bought to stain it blue for me, and every gig you attended even though you only ever listen to grandfather music that goes well with your grandfather clothes and that dreadful tartan.”

Anathema laughed out loud.

“Through every kiss and every- uhh, _thing_ I can’t say in front of your lady-friend here, but let’s just say _things you did very enthusiastically on your knees for me and let me do to you in a bed or otherwise_ ,” and he did stop for a moment to consider what he’d just said. “Eh, that was awfully crass anyway, wasn’t it. So sorry, love.” (he wasn’t.)

Anathema put her hands up, in a _no problem; this is the kind of juicy rom-com we live for, but queer, which is even better_ kinda way.

“That’s when you agreed, Az. And that’s what I’ll hold you to when your time is right. One day you will come out of a concert, the biggest one yet, in, I don’t know, Royal Albert or Carnegie or Budo-fucking-kan,” and he scoffed at himself, not caring if he makes it that far, “and you’ll think ‘ _that handsome motherfucker with the boneless hips actually gives a fuck about me, dun he._ ’ and you’ll believe it, finally. And you’ll smile unmarred. And then, you know. World Peace.”

Aziraphale looked down at the uneven pavement and pursed his lips. “Yes. All that. One day.”

Anthony gave him a minute, wide snake eyes searching.

Then, he went on, and his voice was quieter. Careful.

“We’ll play in Edinburgh in two weeks. Come along.”

“I don’t know yet, my boss is very-”

“None of that bullshit. It’s on a weekend. No excuses. And you know what? You don’t even need this job! Why are you wasting your time there?? – No offense, Thelma. – You can write from literally _anywhere_! The fucking _toilet_ , if you want!”

Anathema would be annoyed at the name but her brain was going _marco—_

“You’re a writer!?!”

\-- _polo!_

“Oh my _God_!!! You’re Ezra Fell!! _Silence of Crows_!! It’s about _you_ , isn’t it??? Oh my Goooood!!!”

“Not now, love,” Crowley sing-sang. “Having a moment here…”

“Sorry, carry on. Don’t mind me. Oh _God_!”

Crowley’s eyes widened at him, with finality.

“I’m gonna make it big, Az. You know I will.”

“Of _course_ you will, my darling. I never doubted, not for a second,” and it wasn’t exactly a lie.

If anything, it was the opposite of what he really wanted if he was brave enough to be honest enough. No world tours and endless months apart – no paparazzi, no gossip on tabloids. No pretty girls or boys dropping to their knees at so much as half a thought from him. No sharing him, and no one could be better, or else—how would he- how could-

How could Crowley love so openly someone so selfish?

“And I want you there with me when I do, Aziraphale. Let me take you to see the world, God only knows you deserve it. Let me take you to Amsterdam, like you’ve always wanted. See the tulips at that park with the fancy name. Eat stormtroopers, and-”

“Stroopwaffles, dear.”

“That’s what I said, _stormtroopers_. And and and, the little pancakes, what are they called again? Poofy… Poffy… Puhf-”

“ _Poffertjes_.”

“I knew that one. Poffertjes in Holland and crepes in Paris. And whatever the hell you want. I’ll give you.” As an afterthought, he added, “I’d give you the Moon if I could. You know that. But I don’t even have a lipstick-taser.”

“What?”

“I can’t bring you the Moon, is what I meant.”

“Of course you can’-“

“It’s a _joke_ , Aziraphale, you absolute _moron_!”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t mean the moron bit.”

“You did.”

“I did. Hah! But. Okay-okay??”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Okay.”

Crowley took a deep breath and tried to pull back those useless tears on the brink of his amber eyes. “Okay, then. Com’ere.”

He wound his arms around his torso and Aziraphale sighed deep and sagged into his embrace. The singer peppered kisses on his face, jaw and down his neck. “Enough of this nonsense? Enough of the doubting? I won’t leave,” he whispered.

He felt so small. “It’s not like I do it on purpose, you know...”

“I know. I know, Angel. We’ll work it through, alright? Baby steps.”

“Baby steps. Yes.”

Crowley lulled him into quietness for long minutes.

Being Crowley, though, silence couldn’t last more than just that - “Alright. Enough of this drama-llama. There’s a _lotta_ sex to be had before sunrise.”

Aziraphale burst into laughter, “You’re ridiculous. You’re ri-di-culous!”

“You ate me with your eyes there, Angel. Jesus, I felt _naked_.”

“We can make that happen, sure.”

“Fucking naughty is what you are, can’t believe those losers haven’t caught up yet.”

“They’re not losers! Not _all_ of them, at least.”

“Thelma isn’t. I like her. Wait, where’s Thelma? Didn’t even say goodbye, so rude.”

(He couldn’t care less.)

“Do you suppose I could invite her to Edinburgh?”

“And kick her to the bar while we have lots and lots of sex? Are you mental? Not even sure she’s old enough to drink.”

Aziraphale shook his head, and smiled.

Unmarred.


End file.
